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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989684">a hit of this distortion makes me high</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicak/pseuds/cicak'>cicak</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hitman (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, FBI's most wanted in love, Happy Ending, Long-Distance Relationship, Mile High Club, Phone Sex, Private beach, Workplace Relationship, long distance relationship logistics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:56:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicak/pseuds/cicak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If you’re going to be in an illicit relationship with your boss, there’s a few things that help in keeping it from getting in the way of your work.</p>
<p>In which 47 and Diana find ways to make time for each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agent 47/Diana Burnwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a hit of this distortion makes me high</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bourbonpowered/gifts">bourbonpowered</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If you’re going to be in an illicit relationship with your boss, there’s a few things that help in keeping it from getting in the way of your work. Obviously, if you work in an office together, that’s one thing, but when you’re both highly private and secretive people wanted the world over for not just for your prodigious skill sets but also for the illegal acts you choose to do with said prodigious skill, the main problem in keeping the romance alive is actually finding somewhere where you can do things that make this a relationship, rather than a pair of people making promises they can never keep to each other over satellite phones. It’s very difficult to keep such a relationship in the same realm as the illicit, <em>especially </em>if you’re both perhaps getting on a bit, or have expensive tastes, or just want to take some time enjoying each other’s company. There’s only so much you can do in stolen moments in train carriages, elevators, airports; all those liminal places that tend to have CCTV that can ruin the mood when those pictures might end up in some Interpol detective’s folder, tying you to each other when you’ve spent decades cultivating reputations as lone, glamorous wolves.</p>
<p>You’d probably be surprised that in reality, the mile high club gets boring when its the only way you can be intimate, and only time you’ve had sex in the last year is in the bathroom of first class, which despite the spacious seats has the same sized bathroom as those poor honest suckers in coach. The angles get stuck with are all wrong for the way your pelvises align, and you end up buried in her up to the hilt with nowhere to go, unable to properly thrust without losing your balance or pitch her into the over-shined mirror, so the fuck ends up more of a rut, when you know she loves the slide of you best of all, and the antiseptic smell of the room is far stronger than any musk the two of you can produce, the olfactory evidence stolen by the aggressive recycled air before you can even enjoy it, all while the engines are blasting white noise when you’d much rather hear her breathy moans and the way she growls encouragements in your ear.</p>
<p>(You think about fucking her in the dark of plane’s night, when the cabin crew are quietly eating their meals in the galley and you are bored of picking out the constellations in the pinprick ceiling LEDs, but you’re the only people in first class, which sort of defeats the point, and anyway, she’s fast asleep, because you’re a gentleman and you got down on your knees on the carpet to make up for the unsatisfactory fuck, keeping at it until the cabin crew politely knocked on the door, more out of tradition than any other reason.)</p>
<p>To your reckoning, the best sex of the last year was the sleepy Saturday morning where you had a late check-out and an evening flight, and you were for once in broadly the same time zone, so when your phone rang you were both fresh from sleep, and Diana’s voice on the other end just said, without any pleasantries to ease you in, “I just woke up from the most...stimulating dream, 47” and proceeded to tell you in immense and minute detail about a misty, jungle-soaked island fragrant with frangipani, with you stalking through the undergrowth like a big cat in your shirtsleeves, “that specific shirt with the pearl buttons, the one cut a little too tight on the shoulders, 47”, with the dove grey suit trousers and matching waistcoat, your head beading with sweat and obviously searching for something, when you came upon her bathing in a forest glade, the place a dense thicket of dark green plants surrounding a pool of shocking blueness, with a waterfall nearby, “really very suggestive, my subconscious obviously is lacking in subtlety”. Nevertheless, there was something erotic in how the light dapped on the leaves and refracted through the rushing water droplets, and how the next moment, “you know how dreams are, 47,” you were so strong and right there, and you grabbed her like she weighed nothing at all, and consumed her, ate her cunt until the brightly coloured tropical birds in the surrounding trees took flight, she was screaming her pleasure so loud, until she was sodden and limp and nothing but a pleasure-soaked husk, allowing you to do your will, bending her over a rock and mounting her like the predator you are, taking her for your own trophy of pleasure, pumping into her deep and hard with your strong hand holding her pelvis up so your thumb could ride her clit until….until….</p>
<p>“Until what?”, you demanded, the plastic casing of the phone cracking under your grip, your other hand clutching the sheets, as if she had told you not to touch yourself, even as you can hear the slick sounds of her doing so on the other end of the line. “Tell me, Diana, <em>please</em>”, you husked and obviously those were the magic words, as you listened intently to her as she keened her orgasm there for you, panting and moaning and even though she is in Vienna and you’re in Casablanca you can taste her on your tongue, you can feel the way she pulses, the way she grips like a vice, and you close your eyes and hold on until she says “until you take what you <em>need</em>, you beautiful bastard, stop denying yourself, let me hear you”, and you give in and it takes just a few strokes before it's all over, but really, you can’t fault it, modern technology is <em>incredible</em>.</p>
<p>In the aftermath of this, you make plans, but you make plans all the time, and there’s always something that gets in the way, some contract or crisis or the end of the world, but this time, the stars do seem to take pity on the both of you and align for once, and you’re once again on a long haul flight flicking through the same movies as last month before watching the tiny plane inch its way across the world towards her. When you land, you rush through the airport, faded glory and local architecture and bored security guards with aging guns lining the halls until you’re through security and you spot her before she spots you, her distinctive hair mostly hidden by her sun hat, but those shoulders haunt your dreams and always have, so you take a moment to appreciate her, to thank God for being so generous to a sinner like you, to have blessed you with the opportunity to love a woman such as she. </p>
<p>When you reveal yourself, she kisses you in the open, hiding behind the fiction of being just another tourist, and together you go to the private terminal, and sixty minutes later you’re in Bali, hiding among the other rich lovebirds, and another hour later, after a shower and a change of clothes and a delicious tropical drink you enjoy more on her tongue than on your own, you’re on a private beach, perfectly alone, on false papers, the sun blazing down on your bare skin and the sand hot around you, tiny glittering bastard grains of it getting everywhere but you don’t care; her fingers are grasping at the white sand like she can hold onto it as her thighs are caught around yours strong as they can, your dick sliding slickly into her, and its so fucking good you can’t help but tell her, growling out every little monosyballic thought in your head about her beauty and her perfection until she’s even more flushed than usual (one of the thousand benefits of loving a redhead), and you feel that first flutter of her body tightening around you, and its all lost in the white-hot rush of your own orgasm that feels like it takes years off your life and gives it straight to her, as she pulses and digs her nails in to pull you closer, deeper, right into the heart of her.</p>
<p>As you lie on top of her in the afterglow, the Indian ocean lapping at your toes, the sand still soft as icing sugar and the tip of Diana’s nose just starting to turn pink, you think maybe it really is worth all the hassle, all things considered, for moments like this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I accidentally started writing a sequel to even steak don't cry, but then I wasn't in the mood for actually thinking about plots tonight, so asked B for a set of prompts because I still had the itch, the itch to write filth. She gave me Plant and Dream, and then sent me a picture of some handsome people wearing batik, which turned to private beaches, and then well, this happened. Anyway, we can all agree that this is all bourbonpowered's fault &lt;3. The title is from Marunouchi Sadistic (Expo version) by Shiina Ringo. </p>
<p>Come hang out with me on tumblr and scream about hitman at <a href="http://cicaklah.tumblr.com">cicaklah.tumblr.com</a> and go read and comment on the rest of my hitman fics, they're all really good. You can see the full list <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicak/works?fandom_id=4738971">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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